“And Know the Place for the First Time.”

Memories of those we have lost are often complicated – a morphing mosaic of longing, loneliness, anger, pain, guilt, sadness, gratitude, forgiveness, love and, eventually, peace.

This Memorial Day, I feel I have come full circle in many ways. When my oldest son, Elliot, watched the “The Lion King” as a toddler, he called it “the circle guh-life.” Turns out that “guh” is profound, because the circle is rarely a smooth curve. There are bumps and turns – which reminds of another Eliot – T.S., whose words convey a similar theme:

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive  where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

I arrived there this week.

I began a new assignment – doing one of the things I love most but in a new context. I hope to shift out of the chaotic freelance writing world to work with an integrated marcom firm in Dallas for a while. Every change is an adjustment, every new adventure a realignment. Every experience, your teacher. I miss the energy of a creative cadre – a tribe of brilliant minds collaborating and concepting in real time. I guess I enjoy the process as much as the product. Believe you me, getting to know oneself after a half-century on the planet is both enlightening and confounding.

The Universe works in mysterious ways – most of them unconscious. Life coach Mary Morrissey teaches, “First, notice what you are noticing. It’s the first step to self-awareness.” So, here’s what I have noticed – though I am starting over, I find myself in stunningly familiar territory. I am working in Preston Center, just a few miles from where I grew up. It is like returning to the place “where I started” – probably holding more hidden nostalgia than any other place of my childhood.

And, I’m seeing it for the first time.

I have been flooded with memories of shopping at Sanger Harris and the Woolworth’s dime store with my mom and sister when I was just 10 or 12. This was our preferred recreational activity – a precious pocket of together time. An artist, somewhat reluctant teacher and sometime socialite, my mother’s presence filled every room she entered. On Saturdays, she adored shopping and visiting her flamboyant fashionista friend Mercedes, who ran the Elizabeth Arden counter at Sanger’s. They would chat and banter as Melissa and I played in the makeup, but her mission was to purchase her signature lipstick shade – Fuchsia Shock. It suited my mom’s mega-watt style, and it was the same shade she sported on her thick, one-inch nails.

Over the past few days, I have wandered the sidewalks of Sherry Lane and Westchester during my lunch breaks. A hip, trendy free-range hamburger boutique has replaced the greasy soda fountain at the Woolworth’s. And Wyatt’s cafeteria, with its wickedly sumptuous chocolate-icebox pie, is long gone —  as it the dusty, cramped little store where I purchased my very first record. It was the debut album by The Partridge Family. Though I have lived in Dallas for most of my life, I have never experienced the emotional impact of this place before – not like this. Until now, these glimpses of my past have felt like they belonged to someone else – distant and disconnected.

Perhaps, this is the beginning of my exploring.

On Wednesday, I left my 18th-floor office at noon, pausing for a startlingly raw moment. I noticed the high-rise across the street and recalled that faithful day 29 years ago when I hopped into the back of shiny, white limo after my wedding reception on the top floor. However, I struggled to step into the skin of that ostensibly happy married girl. She was like a character in a movie – unrelated and detached. I saw her in a crisp, purple size-10 linen suit she could wear only after losing 30 pounds on Weight Watchers. She was waving to the smiling people on sidewalk who were tossing fuchsia tissue-paper petals into the air.

I chose not to linger there.

Yet, I could not avoid more of the strangely familiar. Not sure why, but I turned right at the corner – away from the shopping center and toward St. Michael’s and All Angels Church. This destination held its own mixed, messy bag of memories, but it lured me with a gravitas I could not explain. The last time I was there was 2014, for my father’s funeral and before that, 2012, for my mother’s memorial following her protracted illness. I also was married there in the sanctuary and attended elementary school at St. Michael’s School, where I always dreaded that excruciating President’s Physical Fitness Test. Though my parents did not ever attend services there regularly or address spiritual matters much at all, it was our “church of record.”

How I remembered trying to find a way to belong there. I offered to help Mrs. Dienes, our neighbor when I was about 16, teach kindergarten Sunday School. I borrowed my parents’ powder-blue Mercury Monarch with the white interior to get there by 9:00 a.m. I sang in the choir for Paul Thomas, who always scared me a little, and I attended the youth group led by Kyle Rote, Jr., the super-cute soccer star on the Dallas Tornado. Alas, despite all my valiant attempts, I never felt like I fit in there – as if I were missing that essential piece that made me worthy of the Episcopal whole.

Still, this is where my parents’ ashes are residing for all eternity. My stomach tumbled as I realized I was about to see them again. Serendipity – but no coincidence. I had not been back since my father’s interment. At once, I felt the weight of generations of secrets and shame enveloped in a warm wave of comfort. I stepped closer to the austere, yet elegant, monument. There they were, together for always and forever. I stared at the inscriptions and was suddenly overwhelmed. I grieved not for what we lost but what we never had. And in that moment, I made peace. It was all divine order. Then, I paused in pure awe as I considered the convoluted series of events that had brought me to this place. There I was – steeped in memories and standing with my parents once again as I prepared for a new future. Almost too much to process.

I closed my eyes and thanked Source and the Universe for this miraculous journey and others to come. These are the moments that amplify our being beyond all comprehension.

Then, I thought of sipping a cool, creamy root beer float at Woolworth’s . . . and I smiled.

Dissolving Chaos

“It is when we lose control that we repress the emotions, not when we are in control.” 
don Miguel Ruiz

Communication is messy.

And contributing to the chaos is the proliferation of platforms, tools and media choices. We have so many ways to express ourselves, but we still can’t seem to connect productively.  Perhaps it’s because the cluttered landscape distorts, dilutes and deflects our messages ― as opposed to streamlining, synthesizing and simplifying them.

Another complicating reality is our basic humanness. In the words of Dale Carnegie, “When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.”  That terrain can be very tricky to navigate.

Ultimately, the spontaneous combustion of these factors requires a new way to approach each other and communication. That’s why I find the 4 Agreements are so useful ― even essential to my sanity.

Let’s review. The two we have already considered are ― “Be impeccable with your word” and “Don’t take anything personally.”  Both are powerhouses. Thread those needles, and you will be well on your way to peace and oneness, but the other two definitely complete your foundation.

enough time for social media Agreement 3:  Don’t make assumptions. 

We are human beings with distinctive experiences and perspectives, so we are veritable assumption machines ― generating them about everything all the time. These are the stories we tell ourselves in our heads. The difficulties emerge when we start believing these stories as truth ― operating on autopilot. It can become unconscious mayhem.

We see what we have been programmed to see ― products of our families of origin, epigenetic trauma and our own unresolved wounds.  My lens is unique ― as is yours. Unfortunately, these unconscious and conscious assumptions rattling around in our heads impede authentic dialogue.  Often, they fuel a dysfunctional cycle that leads to defensiveness, blame and mortal combat.  So much of our pain and suffering stems from this process, and it’s hard not to draw a parallel to our current national polarity and tension.  But if we communicate with clarity and mindfulness, maybe we can avoid or work through these misunderstandings. This one agreement could completely transform your life.

Yet, we all need to find the courage to ask questions and express ourselves ― without shame or fear of reprisal. This one really resonates with me. As a recovering over-functioner, I have lived most of my life making up stories about situations and then reacting to them.  Grateful for the amazing help I have received along the way, I am now working on acknowledging the needs of my frightened inner child ― realizing that relief and peace are not “out there” somewhere, but inside.  My work now is to consciously develop healthier boundaries ― and rewire the damaging habit of taking responsibility for the unpleasant behaviors of those around me.

ACTION ITEM:  Begin to notice your assumptions. Perhaps, even write them down for a day ― someone who cuts you off in traffic, a board member in your Homeowner’s Association who behaves defensively, or a colleague at work who is still supporting Trump. Oy!  Then, take a look at your thoughts about these encounters ― and remind yourself that you do not have all the data.  Go through the list and feel yourself let go of the absolutes ― as you allow yourself to embrace your real power.

Agreement 4:  Always do your best. 

This one sounds like kindergarten, but then, doesn’t that make sense?  This is really more of a stance than a directive.  The specifics may vary from moment to moment or day to day.  In any circumstance, simply know that you are doing your best, and you will avoid that feisty inner critic and any potential regret.

I like this agreement, because it reminds me of what a gift imperfection can be. (I love Brené Brown and her teachings on this.)  We do not need to be perfect.  We just need to do our best ― and that’s enough. I am enough. It’s about holding an intention to be the good we seek in the world but also being gentle with ourselves and others in the process.

ACTION ITEM: Begin bynoticing what you are noticing,” as Mary Morrissey says. It all starts with awareness, and noticing when that insidious inner voice says things like, “you should,” “you can’t,” or “you’re supposed to.” Make the choice to be at peace with knowing you are doing your best in this moment.

And, breathe. Always a good choice.

The Art and the Science of Infinite Possibilities

“I look at you all, see the love there that’s sleeping . . .”

— George Harrison

guitarI was taking my morning walk in the crisp Texas air on Sunday and listening to the “random shuffle” on my smart phone. As indicated with crystal clarity here, there are no accidents ― a pattern to the randomness usually emerges. And George’s message in “My Guitar Gently Weeps” impacted me on a profound, new level. Admittedly, we all have our favorite Beatles’ songs, and this is definitely in my top five.

“I look at you all, see the love there that’s sleeping 
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps.”

In sync with this moment, I was attending a dazzling event over the weekend called #DreambuildersLIVE, and I thank Unity Church Dallas for offering special access to the experience.  This was the Mary Morrissey show, and she is certainly a magnetic maestro of meaning ― orchestrating mesmerizing messages in “a container” of multimedia magic.

One of her fundamental life-coaching principles is “notice what you are noticing.” This reinforces and supports my current journey ― as I find it requires vigilant practice. I think of it as “uber awareness” or “turbo mindfulness.”  And it’s essential, because our dreams all start in our own hearts and minds ― an inside job. Deftly unfolding this concept, Mary polished many glistening enlightenment nuggets in her approachable, warm style. “You can’t get TO your dream ― you must come FROM it,” says Mary. Letting that idea seep into every molecule is potemt as I envision and feel my future joy in the now ― the present moment. Be the change. Live the dream. (Need more practice.)

In this iconic song, George is definitely noticing what he is noticing. And though that darn floor is filthy and his guitar is gloomy, he chooses to see the “love there that’s sleeping.” I have read he wrote the song at his mother’s house in Warrington, England as he contemplated “I Ching, The Book of Changes.” It’s regarded one of the most important texts of Chinese wisdom and philosophy ever scribed, and it was a foundational source for Confucius and others.

I believe one of the notions George is referencing is the ethereal mystery of relationships and the interconnectedness of all things and beings in the universe.  Our oneness with all ― and one for all time. Just beginning to embrace these ideas based on ancient philosophies, twenty-first century science is now studying the hidden, untapped power of the brain and its relationship to the quantum field. In fact, “Make it MATTER” is another great Mary-ism ― linking meaning with quantum change and infinite possibilities.

Yes, Mary is vibrating at a higher frequency ― and creating a surge in the process. You could feel it in the room of more than 750 people from across the globe gathered here in Texas for a nexus of relationship and intention to generate something wonderful and good.  So refreshing as we notice . . . our “political floor may need some sweeping.” But . . .

“With every mistake we must surely be learning.”